


The Assassination of Robert Small (by the Coward Joseph Christiansen)

by sawbones



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 07:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11777904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sawbones/pseuds/sawbones
Summary: Joseph is drawn to those in need like a shark to blood, like a fly to an open wound; or, the story of how Joseph came to be in possession of Robert's blue sweater.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in some vague period shortly after Robert's wife died, several years before the events in game, so characters and their relationships are not exactly as we know them in DDaDDS: Robert is far more raw/vulnerable, Mary is more angry and less resigned, and Joseph is still trying to establish himself as a good and godly man. Please note, canon has been fudged so much you could probably cut it up and sell it by the pound.
> 
> Not currently beta'd so please be forgiving of my many, many mistakes.

It had been years since he’d been in a bar like it, but as soon as he stepped over the sticky threshold of Jim & Kim’s, Joseph knew it would be where he’d find Mary. He’d already tried all her regular haunts, but she wasn’t there - he just so happened to take a different route home than usual when he saw the burnt-out neon sign and got a hunch. 

They’d met in a bar just like it, a little more than ten years before. She had been wearing leather trousers and he, if he remembered correctly, had cut the sleeves off his shirt to show off his new tattoo. He thought he looked cool at the time; so did she, apparently. 

How things changed.

There was no sign of Mary - not at first glance, anyway. The place was mostly empty. There was the bartender and a single patron up at the bar, a bleary-eyed couple sitting silently under the TV, and another man leaning against the jukebox, too drunk to pick his song. Joseph approached the bar, but didn’t lean on it. Despite the towel in the barman’s hands, it looked like it hadn’t been wiped down in weeks.

“Excuse me, I’m wondering if you could help me,” Joseph began, “Have you seen a woman, about this tall, long brown hair - goes by the name Mary?”

That earned a snort from the man sitting at the bar, but Joseph manage to maintain his muted polite smile.

“We’ve all seen Mary by now,” the stranger in the leather jacket said, a sly grin cutting across his almost-handsome features for a split second. He gave Joseph a less than subtle once-over as he sipped his whiskey, “Didn’t think she’d be your type.”

“Shut the fuck up and finish your drink, Robert,” the barman said and flicked the grubby towel at him. The man - Robert - grumbled and swatted it away, “Yeah, Mary’s here. Can I ask who wants to know?”

“Joseph. Her husband,” Joseph said. He could feel Robert’s eyes on him, see the drop in the bartender’s expression. He could guess what that meant easily enough, “I need to pick someone up at the airport in less than an hour, and she was supposed to be home for the children. The sitter’s with them now, but she can’t--”

“Alright, alright,” the bartender cut him off with a wave of his hand. He sighed, leaned against the counter, “Look, buddy, she’s in the back right now. Maybe you should--”

“I’ll be waiting in the car out front,” Joseph said, straightening his posture, hands clasped before him, “If you would be kind enough to let her know when she’s ready. Thank you.”

He turned and walked away at that moment as fast as his boat shoes could carry him, though not fast enough to miss hearing one of them mutter  _ poor bastard _ .

 

\--

 

It wasn’t the infidelity that bothered Joseph - or the illusion of it, since Mary was quite adamant she remained faithful, if only technically. His marriage, the vows they’d made, the relationship they’d grown and shared - it was done. Gone. Over, for the most part. They both knew it, as much as they obtusely avoided the subject. If she would really be happier with someone else then he wouldn’t stop her; after everything, perhaps he owed her that much. He mostly just wished Mary still respected him, or even herself, enough to be discreet about it. They had a reputation to keep. They had a responsibility to the community. They had  _ children _ , for pity’s sake. What would the neighbors think?

 

\--

 

If he had to pick her up once, he had to pick her up most weekends after that or else risk not seeing her at all until the next day. He’d rather usher her home while it was still dark than have her stagger up the garden path while Brian was out watering his flower beds. At least the bar staff were kind enough to help her home on weekdays. Joseph was on first name terms with most of them already.

“Looks like you’ll be waiting a while tonight, Joe,” Neil said as he approached the bar, car keys clenched in his fist. Joseph frowned slightly, both at the apparent delay and the unsanctioned nickname.

“Has she locked herself in the bathroom again?” he sighed and slipped onto the barstool one along from Robert so he didn’t have to smell his tobacco-smoke reek. They had to call the fire department the last time she did that, much to Mary’s great delight.

“She just left,” Robert said. He tapped the side of his glass.

“Yeah, she was a little gassed up tonight - more than usual, I mean,” Neil explained as he gave Robert a refill, “We phoned a cab for her about a half hour ago. She said she’d call you.”

“It must have slipped her mind,” he said, trying to stay sounding as bright as ever. He’d came straight from the church, not home, so he would have missed her.

“Sure it did. One for the road then, Joe? On the house, of course,” Neil asked, glass already in hand.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be rude. I’ll have a seltzer and lemon, please,” Joseph said. When Robert scoffed into his whiskey, he forced a smile and jingled his car keys.

“Suit yourself,” Robert said. When his drink came, the seltzer was mostly flat and Neil had inexplicably used cheap cordial instead of fresh lemon. Still, he sipped it slowly as if he was savouring it, hoping that if he killed enough time, Mary would be asleep by the time he got back. 

He could feel Robert staring at him again, even as he pretended to be deeply engrossed in whatever infomercial was on the TV. The man didn’t seem to blink much. Didn’t talk much either, at least when Joseph was around; he’d caught him in animated conversations with Mary more than once when he’d come to collect her, but he seemed different from the rest of men she pawed at. More intense. Less intimidated. 

Robert shifted in his seat and the sudden movement drew Joseph’s attention. Their eyes met and Robert leant in.

“So how did you two meet?” he asked. Joseph raised his brows; he didn’t seem the sort for small talk. He wanted something.

“Mary and I? Oh well, you know - our eyes met across the room, and the rest is history,” Joseph said, guarded but not impolite, “You don’t want to hear that old story.”

“I already have,” Robert said. The ice in his drink clinked accusingly as he swirled it around his glass, “Wanted to see how you remember it.”

Joseph pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth for a moment before his face split in a smile, “She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.”

A non-answer. Not strictly a lie, though not as earnest as it should have been. There was a lingering pause, a shift in Robert’s expression that shouldn’t annoyed Joseph as much as it did. He turned back to the bar, shoulders hunched and conversation apparently over. He brought his glass to his lips but didn’t drink, “Go home to your wife, Joseph.”

 

\--

 

Mary was not asleep, at least not in bed. There was a trail of clothes, discarded shoes, even her silver cross necklace leading from the front door up to the bedroom. Joseph found her in the en suite bathroom, arms around the toilet bowl. His lip curled in distaste, but at least she had managed to avoid getting any vomit on the floor. He crouched beside her, brushed her thick hair back from her face with a single finger. She was conscious, awake, her eyes red-rimmed and seething as she stared up at him silently. He tried to tuck the hair behind her ear but she jerked her head away, teeth bared like she would bite him if he tried to touch her.

He held her gaze, almost daring her to try it, before he finally stood up. He sighed, wiped his hands on his slacks.

“Drink some water and brush your teeth before you come to bed,” he said, “We’re having a tea morning at the church tomorrow. I expect you to be there.”

 

\--

 

“I don’t think anything’s been handed in, Joe,” Neil said with a single shake of his head, “Do you know what it looks like?”

Joseph hesitated, tried and failed to picture Mary wearing it, “It looks like-- uh, gosh, you know, Mary just has so many purses, I couldn’t tell you.”

“It’s the tan suede slouch,” Robert interrupted, drawing a sharp look from Joseph.

“Oh yeah, with the grey strap?” Neil asked, and Robert nodded.

“Same one she always wears.”

“I remember it. Don’t think she left it here though,” Neil said. 

“She had it with her. I saw. Did you check your backseat?” Robert tilted his glass towards Joseph, “I’ve given her a ride before, sometimes she tosses it in the backseat and forgets.”

“Don’t you have a two-seater pick-up?” Neil asked. Robert shrugged.

“When I can find the keys.”

Joseph watched the exchange with a blank look until he was sure they were done, then began to back towards the door, “Well, thank you gentlemen for your help. I  _ think _ I would have noticed if she’d put it in the back but I will be sure to check, just in case.”

“Need a hand?”

Joseph paused, bounced a look between them. Robert was already moving in his direction; Neil looked as perplexed as Joseph felt, “Ah. No. Thank you. There’s not many places for a purse to hide when you have two baby seats and a booster.”

Robert sucked his teeth and shrugged again, “Suit yourself.”

Joseph blinked, nodded. Personally, if he could  _ suit himself _ as Robert so often said, he’d rather fall down the stairs and break his neck than have to do another drunk call-and-collect. He gave a cheerful enough wave and excused himself. 

 

\--

 

It had been a long, tedious day of office work at the church; he was entrenched in a land dispute over a couple of acres behind the church. It technically belonged to the church, but the property it backed onto had illegally built on it anyway. It should have been a pretty straight forward matter, but unsurprisingly they had the money than the church didn’t to hire some decent lawyers. Despite being at fault, and apparently utterly without shame, their intent was to drag out proceedings until Joseph could no longer put up the legal fees and folded. 

The constant back and forth without an inch of progress was teeth-grindingly frustrating, so much so that Joseph had to turn his phone off around lunch time to spare himself the headache. He didn’t turn it on until he dragged his weary bones into his car at the end of the day; the onslaught of expected texts and missed calls didn’t help. The unexpected voicemail from a reluctant sounding Neil explaining that Mary hadn’t paid her bar tab all week and he had to cut her off actively made things worse. Apparently she’d given him Joseph’s number before she left and said he’d be by later to pay it.

Joseph hung up half-way through Neil’s awkward but firm insistence that he  _ liked _ Mary but he had to think of the bar. He lent against the steering wheel, thumbs pressed to his screwed-shut eyes like he was trying to stop them popping out of his head. She  _ had _ her own money, as much as he could afford to give her, and he wouldn’t grudge her a little more for special occasions. He didn’t know if she had seriously blown it all somehow or if she was just trying to embarrass him, but he knew which likelihood he’d bet what little he had left on.

At Jim & Kim’s, Neil was a little more brusque in person, probably because of how long it took for Joseph to come around. He paid what Mary owed with enough sincere apologising that Neil softened up quickly enough, seemingly embarrassed to make a mild scene in front of the few customers were in. It was a thursday and the place was nearly empty, not even the usual gruff presence haunting the bar; Joseph felt a pang of sympathy over what he’d said about putting the place first. It looked like he needed it.

Outside, he was only mildly surprised to see Robert leaning against the hood of his car. It seemed like it would be that kind of day. He had his hands in his pockets and a cigarette hanging from his lips, and watched Joseph with a dark-eyed expression he didn’t want to read too much into.

“Got a light?” he asked as Joseph approached, as casual as if he was just waiting at a bus stop and not loitering with intent in an empty car park. 

“Sorry, I don’t smoke,” Joseph said in clipped tones as he unlocked the car from a few feet away. He could smell the alcohol coming off him in waves. He was pretty sure if he wasn’t leaning against the car he’d be swaying. He hadn’t seen him that drunk before.

“Course you don’t,” Robert said. He pulled out a box of matches from his pocket, and Joseph was frankly amazed he didn’t do something ridiculous like strike it with his chin scruff.

“Is there something I can do for you, Robert?”

Robert took a deep drag on his cigarette, flicked the match away. He held his breath for a beat, then let it go, smoke curling from his nostrils like a particularly whiskey-soaked dragon, “I need a ride.”

Joseph’s gut reaction was to tell him to get lost, but he resisted the urge. That wouldn’t be a very  _ Christian _ thing to do, even if his bad mood was quite justified. He leant his arm on the open door, talking to Robert over the roof, “Sure. I’d rather you didn’t smoke in the car, though. Where are you headed?”

Robert gave a dry laugh, “Are you kidding? We live on the same street.”

Joseph fumbled for a recovery as he got in the car. Robert got in too, cigarette still between his teeth though he had the good grace to crack the window slightly, “Oh. Oh! You know, I thought you looked familiar. When did you move in, again?”

“About six months ago,” Robert deadpanned, “Maybe Mary was right about you having your head up your ass.”

Joseph was taken aback by his blatant rudeness. He stared at Robert for a hard moment before he reached over and plucked the cigarette from his lips and pinged it out the window, which he then rolled up from the driver side controls. There was an awkward silence while he started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, but Robert didn’t light up again.

“Do you have a wife of your own, Robert?” Joseph asked eventually. It was a short drive but he still felt the need to break the silence, even if the question came out a little more barbed than he intended.

Robert didn’t answer right away; he stared out the window at nothing in particular, and Joseph wondered if he was sulking about the cigarette, “Had. She died.”

Joseph looked away, felt some of the tension leave his hands so his grip on the wheel was a little less white knuckled, “I’m...sorry to hear that.”

There was no response from Robert, but he followed his sullen downward glance to the hand resting on his thigh: there was a tan-line on his ring finger, still clean cut and fresh. He’d only just stopped wearing the ring and wasn’t used to it yet, Joseph guessed. No wonder the guy was drinking like a fish. He shouldn’t have said anything.

A few minutes later, and they were pulling into the cul-de-sac. He stopped outside the house Robert nodded at, literally next door to his own home. He could have guessed it was his by the beat-up truck in the driveway and the ragged lawn. Joseph had always thought the place looked like an eyesore, he just hadn’t realised who had been responsible for it. He couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone come and go from it, at least not in the hours of day, and he wondered what kind of schedule Robert even kept.

“Do you go to Jim & Kim’s every night?” Joseph asked on a whim just as Robert was about to get out, already pulling his cigarette pack from his pocket, “I see you there most weekends, of course, but I must admit I was a little surprised to see you on a weeknight too.”

Robert popped the door open, rolled a one shoulder shrug, “Don’t have much else going on at the moment.”

“Well, you know, me and some of the guys from the street at having a barbeque tomorrow evening if the weather’s good. They’re swell guys, real stand up gents. You’d be more than welcome to join us, if you wanted,” Joseph said, “I know Mary would appreciate the company. Not many other wives on the scene, if you catch my drift.”

Robert seemed to think about it, though Joseph couldn’t decipher his hard-edged expression. He got up, got out.

“Yeah. Maybe,” was all he said before the door was slammed shut with more force than really necessary. Joseph watched him stagger up to his front door, and by the time he pulled into his own driveway and turned the engine off, he could still see him fumbling with his keys. He got in, shut the door, but no lights came on. Joseph wondered dimly if he made it up the stairs okay. 

 

\--

 

“Oh my goodness Lucien, look at the size of you now. I swear you grow an inch every week I see you,” Joseph said, welcoming him to the garden with open arms, “You’re going to be even taller than your old man soon enough.”

Lucien regarded him with the most withering look a middle-schooler could possibly summon, “I’m not an infant. Please don’t talk to me like one.”

He breezed by, bowl of ice cream and jello in hand, leaving a flustered looking Damien in his wake, “I beg you to excuse his manners, Joseph. He’s getting to that age and I am simply at a loss as for what to do.”

“At least he said please, I suppose,” Joseph said. He put a reassuring hand on Damien’s shoulder and squeezed, “But he’s right. Your little boy’s about to become a little man soon, can you believe it?”

Damien laughed, passed a hand over his eyes like he might faint, “Don’t remind me. Your eldest will be following behind him soon enough.”

“Hey, I’ve got a few years yet - let me enjoy the relative peace while I can,” Joseph said with an exaggerated nod to where Mary was sitting with the twins. She was slouched on one of the garden benches, sunglasses on to hide bloodshot eyes as she rocked the double-stroller they were strapped into with the toe of her boot. Chris would probably be in his room: he had done his obligatory circuit of the guests and then retreated. 

Mary looked bored out of her mind, which only served to remind Joseph that Robert hadn’t bothered to show up. He didn’t know whether to be concerned or irritated, but he decided it would perhaps be a good idea to check in on him later. Bring him some leftovers; there was always plenty. The would be the neighbourly thing to do. 

It took him a split second to realise he’d went silent half way through a conversation and Damien’s polite smile could only get so wooden. He laughed and shook his head like he was coming out of a daydream, “Whoa, sorry about that, I must be more hungry than I thought. Low blood sugar, you know? Anyway, I’ll let you go and start on these burgers already before I fade away. Don’t tell the others, but you’re on the top of the list.”

Damien moved on with a laugh, shortly followed by a wave of warm salutations from the other dads in the garden, and Joseph was left with his grill and the nagging need to know why Robert hadn’t accepted his gracious invitation.

 

\--

 

He’d tried to save Robert a burger, but he had to give up the last one when Craig accidentally dropped his while roughhousing a little too much with Brian, who’s dog immediately grabbed it and ran. He made do with a platter of with a spoonful of just about everything that was left over, which was plenty since Hugo and Mat seemed to want to one-up each other every get together. 

“Did you notice Craig didn’t bring Ashley again?” Mary asked as she wandered into the kitchen, empty glass in hand. She still had her sunglasses on despite the fact it was getting dark outside, but at least she seemed in a better mood, “That’s the third time in a row. I smell trouble in paradise.”

“Gossip is poisonous, Mary,” Joseph said, not looking up from the tinfoil he was carefully tucking under the edges of the platter. He paused, pursed his lips, “I suppose I could try talking to him about it.”

“Oh, so I need to mind my own business but it’s fine if you go and make it your own?” Mary asked sourly. With help from the others, most notably Hugo and Damien, she’d managed to drink through the modest wine stash Joseph kept, and had moved on to a dusty bottle of sherry that usually only saw the light of day at Christmas time.

“It’s part of my job to offer comfort and guidance to people who need it,” Joseph said. Marry snorted.

“Lucky them,” she said. She let it hang in the air like a knife.

“I’m stepping out for a while. I don’t imagine I’ll be long,” Joseph said as though he hadn’t even heard her. He picked up the platter carefully and smiled, “You’ll be alright putting the kids to bed, right? Thank you, darling.”

Mary didn’t say anything as he walked past her: she didn’t need to. Her acidic glare could have stripped the paint off the walls. He resigned himself to dealing with the inevitable screaming match later, but in the meantime he was more concerned with not dropping the entire platter as he balanced it one-handed to open the front door.

 

\--

 

The lights were off in Robert’s house, but his pick-up was still in the driveway and Joseph could only hope it was too early for him to have skipped out to Jim & Kim’s. There was no response to his first knock, so he tried again twice more, a little louder each time in case he was asleep. He was considering giving up before curtains around the cul-de-sac started twitching, but then there was a muffle crash inside and the sound of someone swearing.

Joseph barely had time to rearrange his face into something warm and neutral before the door was wrenched open, but it slipped when he saw Robert: he was dressed in a soft blue sweater that didn’t quite suit him, his hair combed into submission, his stubble trimmed to something halfway fashionable. Joseph could almost taste whatever cheap cologne he’d splashed on, even over the stale cigarette smoke. His eyes were red, though whether it was from crying or smoking, Joseph couldn’t tell.

What he could tell, however, was that Robert had  _ wanted _ to come over - or at the very least had intended to. 

“What do you want?” Robert said when Joseph still hadn’t said anything. His voice had a rasp to it that jolted Joseph from his thoughts; he took a half-step forward, platter extended like a peace offering.

“I thought I’d bring you some stuff from the barbeque, since you couldn’t make it,” he said, “There’s always so much left over, it would just go to waste otherwise.”

Robert eyed the platter like it was a bomb but took it anyway with a grunt of affirmation. He went to close the door, but Joseph stopped it with his foot.

“Forgive me for prying but is...everything okay?” Joseph asked with only the mildest trepidation. 

“That’s none of your business,” Robert said, still pushing against the door, “And don’t even think about starting any love-thy-neighbor Jesus crap with me.”

“There’s a lot of comfort to be found in the word of the Lord, but this is less Jesus, more semi-decent human being. I don’t preach, anyway,” Joseph said. He looked away, rubbed the back of his neck, “Look, I’m going to be forward and you don’t need to say anything, that’s fine. But if you need anything - and I mean  _ anything _ \- I’m just next door, okay?”

That seemed to give Robert a moment’s pause and he stopped trying to shut the door, a slight twist to his mouth that was neither a smile nor a grimace. The irritation in his sharp gaze softened for just a second before it crystallized into something else entirely.

“Thanks for the--” Robert peeled up a corner of the tinfoil to squint at the contents of the platter, “--crab salad? It’s great. Now get your foot off my fucking door and the rest of you off my porch.” 

Joseph laughed. That felt like progress, though thought progress in  _ what  _ exactly was a  mystery he didn’t want to consider too closely. He moved his foot, shrugged almost apologetically even as the door was closing, “Alright. See you tomorrow, Robert.”

 

\--

 

Joseph took his time rinsing off the dinner plates in the kitchen sink, ready to be loaded into the dishwasher - not because they were particularly dirty, but because he had a decent view of Robert across the way, tinkering under the hood of his pick-up. No blue sweater in sight, just a grease-smeared white t-shirt and the occasional colourful expletive Joseph was glad he couldn’t quite make out. He wondered if it was a rare sight or if he simply hadn’t been paying attention before.

“Should we invite Robert around for dinner?” he asked. There was a string of quiet but persistent curses behind him.

“What?” Mary said finally. When Joseph glanced over his shoulder, she was busy trying to wrestle several spoonfuls of peas back onto Christian’s plate while he was far more interested in launching them at his sister.

“I said should we--”

“That was a ‘what the hell’ what, not a deaf what,” Mary interrupted, “Why would you want to do that?”

“What the hell,” Chrissie parroted cheerfully, “What the hell!”

“It’s the neighbourly thing to do. He seems to be going through a hard time,” Joseph said, “Besides, isn’t he a friend of yours?”

“We drink together, but I’m not sleeping with him,” Mary said, flicking a piece of carrot off her hand, “You know, if this is you stepping up your passive aggressive bullshit.”

“That’s not--” Joseph began, his stomach clenching unpleasantly. He sighed, let it go, turned back to the window. Robert was still out there, leaning against the door of his truck with a bottle of beer in one hand and his face in the other. He looked tired, “I just thought it might be nice. I missed the chance to welcome him to the neighbourhood the first time around, but it’s never too late to extend the hand of friendship.”

“Bullshit,” Christian said with the sort of solemnness only toddlers could really pull off. 

Joseph could feel Mary’s narrowed gaze scratching up his back like fingernails. She scoffed, dropped the spoon on Christian’s plate in defeat, “He didn’t come to your stupid cook-out, so why would he come to dinner? Some people don’t want to be saved, Joseph.”

Joseph watched as Robert slammed the hood of his truck shut and shook his head, apparently bested by whatever was wrong. He tossed his empty beer bottle onto the grass of his own lawn and staggered back inside. Joseph turned off the tap and leant against the edge of the sink, bottom lip caught between his teeth for just a split second.

“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t  _ try _ .”


	2. Chapter 2

It seemed like once he had noticed Robert, he couldn’t stop seeing him in the most unexpected place - such as behind him in line at the Coffee Spoon on an overcast Tuesday mid-morning. He pretended to be too engrossed in the menu of indecipherable but probably very witty references to see him, and waited until he felt the brush of warm leather against his bare arm to turn around. His gentle gasp of surprise was quite convincing, even if he did say so himself.

“Rob,” he said, head cocked to the side almost imperceptibly, “Fancy meeting you here. It’s a bit early in the day for you, is it not?”

Robert’s dark-circled gaze flickered over Joseph, like he was gathering the energy to even talk to him, “Ran out of coffee in the house. The Spoon is closer than the store.”

“You should have came over and asked to borrow a cup, we’ve got plenty to go around,” Joseph said. Robert frowned slightly.

“You’re here.” 

“...Alright, you got me there. At least let me buy yours then,” Joseph said, although Robert made no move to stop him. They stood in awkward silence until they got to the front of the queue, where Joseph ordered two plain black coffees.

“I’ll take mine to go,” Robert added, and Joseph shot him a look.

“No he won’t,” he said to the young man serving them - not Mat, but some other fresh-faced young thing - then shot Robert a look, “No you won’t. If I’m buying, the least you can do is keep me company - unless you’ve got somewhere to be?”

Joseph didn’t give him time to think of an excuse; he paid for the coffee and politely herded his possibly unwilling guest to a nearby table - not beside the window, of course. The truth was that he was actually the one with somewhere to be, since troubles at the church rumbled on endlessly. 

“How’s the truck?” Joseph asked, “Looked like it was giving you some real hassle the other day.”

If Robert was concerned about Joseph watching him work, he said nothing. Instead he grunted, leaned back in his chair like an indolent high-schooler, “Carburetor is busted. Old truck, so it’s a feedback too, way beyond my skill levels.”

Joseph nodded like he knew a damn thing about mechanics, beyond which hole the gas went in, “You know Brian on our street, he’s really good with his hands - he used to fix-up old bangers for fun. Maybe I could ask him to take a look at it? It would save the hassle of getting towed to the repair shop.”

“Brian, huh,” Robert rubbed his chin scruff, “Is that the ginger-hunk or the sports-hunk?”

Joseph was somewhat glad that was the moment the server from earlier brought them their coffee. He flashed him warm smile of gratitude, and enjoyed the obvious effect it had on the youth, “Ah-- ginger-hunk. Sports-hunk is Craig.”

Robert seemed to think about it as he silently spooned some sugar into his coffee: not one, not two, not even three - five sugars.  _ Five. _ Joseph shouldn’t have been surprised but it was hard to keep his muted horror hidden. Eventually he shrugged, “I guess.”

“I could introduce you, if you wanted to ask him yourself. Perhaps at the next cookout?” Joseph said, not looking at Robert as he stirred a single sweetener into his own coffee. He didn’t want to press, but he wasn’t going to leave it alone, “Unless you need it for work or something.”

“No,” Robert said, “I don’t need it for work, I mean. I don’t-- hm. You have those get-togethers every weekend or what?”

“Not every weekend, no. Usually about once a month, maybe more if the weather’s nice, or if there’s sports on. Then we all pile over to Brian’s house, since he has a screen the size of some people’s yard,” Joseph said. He picked up his mug but didn’t drink it, not wanting to scald his mouth already. Robert didn’t seem to mind, he tossed it back like it was water.

“Sports?”

“Go team?” Joseph said with a small shrug, “Oh, I don’t know. It’s not my thing, but the guys like it and I like the guys, so I’m happy enough to join in. Do you...like sports?”

Robert pulled an ambivalent face, which Joseph assumed meant he didn’t have any strong feelings towards it, at least not enough to answer the question. Then again, Robert could be the biggest sports fan in the world and would probably make the same face. His reticence would only make it all the sweeter when Joseph managed to crack him like a nut. He smiled, as if in anticipation.

“I tell you what, Rob,” Joseph said, pulling a pen from his pocket and grabbing a napkin, “I’m going to jot down my number here, and if you ever decide you’re bored of rattling around that house all day, you just give me a text. No Jesus stuff, I promise.”

There was a moment - just the briefest, most fleeting moment - where it looked like Robert was going to say something, maybe even smile. It passed without being realised, and Robert thinned his lips as he blinked at the napkin. In one move he grabbed it, stuffed it into his pocket and got to his feet.

“I should go,” he said, already moving towards the door. Joseph took a sip from his mug, let him go, and counted to three. As expected, Robert stopped just shy of leaving and glanced back at him, “...Thanks for the coffee.”

 

\--

 

_ R: what do i bring _

Joseph pursed his lips at the blinking message on his phone. He gave the pan of pasta sauce one last stir before he put the lid on and picked it up to respond.

_ J: What do you mean buddy? ~Joseph _

_ R: what do i need to bring _

_ R: to the thing _

_ R: the man thing _

_ R: beer? _

_ J: Beer works, or food. Food is always welcome. ~Joseph _

Joseph watched the tentative ellipses that indicated Robert was typing flash up and disappear several times.

_ J: Don’t worry about it, you don’t need to bring anything but your fine self. I look forward to seeing you again. ~Joseph _

He turned off the screen and slipped his phone into his back pocket; Robert wouldn’t respond to that any time soon.

 

\--

 

It was so easy, so wonderfully, worryingly easy to dip his fingers into thoughts of Robert - thoughts that raced ahead of the plan that seemed to be making itself, spooling out in front of Joseph like a rope ladder. He didn’t know him, but he would - Robert’s loneliness was like a hairline fracture on a frozen lake: just a little pressure, and the cold, hard surface would cave under his weight. 

How obvious it seemed, once he thought about it, like figuring out the rules of a game when you’re already in the second round. He was drawn to him, not just his sad eyes and scruffy good looks, but as though he was pushed along by a purpose. Of course he didn’t have such grand delusions as to think it was  _ god _ or any sort of higher power, simply a case of being in the right place at the right time. It was no small feat to unbreak a heart but how could he resist when the hurt was like a sucking wound?

Joseph dragged his fingertips across his thighs, down to the inseam of his slacks. It was the lightest touch, a ghosting presence like he didn’t really want to feel it. There was that familiar-unfamiliar tightness in his stomach-- desire, yes, that was it, and it had been so long since he’d felt it that it was almost unrecognisable to him. Not lust, no, nothing so base. He didn’t want Robert, he would  _ have  _ him. He would help him.

That’s what he did, wasn’t it? Helped people.

The harsh tone of his office phone jarred him from his warm-skinned contemplations and he squinted at the caller ID: Mary, of course. He’d been expecting a call back from the lawyer’s office. He ignored it, but the ringing didn’t stop and he sighed; he picked up the receiver and put it down with a  _ klat _ before she could even draw breath. Apparently the three missed calls on his mobile we’re enough of a hint that he was busy.

 

\--

 

There was a brief sunny spell between the fitful showers of rain, and while the others were taking advantage of it - venturing into the garden for the first time all afternoon - Joseph found Robert in the kitchen, caught in conversation with an usually bright-eyed Chris. He stopped in the doorway to listen in without interrupting.

“So you’re telling me these guys dedicate their whole lives to trying to catching these things?” Robert asked, brow scrunched in concentration, “They ever manage it?”

“No - not live ones, anyway. Cryptids are very illusive,” Chris said, “They get them on tape all the time though. People say they fake it, but  _ I  _ don’t think they fake it.  _ I _ think its cool.”

“That _ is _ pretty cool,” Robert agreed. 

He sounded completely earnest, almost thoughtful, which was something not many people could manage when Chris cornered them with his special interest - Cryptid something? Cryptid Crypt Busters Brothers? At first Joseph had been worried it would give him nightmares since he wouldn’t consider it age appropriate, but Chris had taken a shine to it, and it was nice to have something they could talk about. Robert’s leather jacket was not unlike one which the eldest brother wore, which had probably caught Chris’s attention.

Raised voices outside reminded him he was supposed to be getting drinks for people; Robert’s case of beer he’d brought along hadn’t lasted long. He stepped into the kitchen like he’d just been passing through, catching Robert’s eye and flashing him a toothy smile as he pilfered some of the last remaining bottles from the refrigerator. Chris turned to watch him over his skinny shoulder, suddenly wary and a little sullen around the mouth. He touched the cuff of Robert’s jacket and quickly slunk out the way Joseph had came in.

“Smart kid,” Robert said, watching him go, “Weird as all hell, but smart. Kinda reminds me of mine when she was that age.”

Joseph raised his brows, “You have a--”

“Daughter, yeah. Val.”

Joseph didn’t know if it was a good idea to ask where she was, all things considered. If she wasn’t around so soon after his wife’s - and presumably her mother’s - death, things couldn’t be good. He wanted to encourage the rare moment of talkativeness; somehow without dropping the rest of them, he managed to offer Robert a bottle of beer instead.

“She’s in Brooklyn, since you’re wondering,” he said, and twisted the top off like it was nothing, “We were never that close before-- before. I’ve not exactly given her any reason to change that now.”

His face was deliberately stony, but Joseph knew regret when he saw it. It clearly hurt Robert to say it out loud, a reluctant and somewhat unexpected admission that he probably wasn’t ready for. He reached out, slipped his hand into the crook of Robert’s elbow and squeezed lightly.

“Want to help me carry these out to the garden?” he asked, bottles clinking, “There’s some folk here who’d probably like to meet their shady neighbour already, and I  _ think _ Mary’s been looking for you.”

Robert took a couple of the bottles from Joseph and took a swig of his own, ”She won’t like me when I’m sober.”

“Nonsense! I mean for a start, you’re not sober and neither is she,” Joseph said, and enjoyed the way Robert-half smiled at that, “To get serious again for a moment, I actually wanted to thank you-- for being Mary’s friend, I mean. She’s been having a hard time lately, and it’s not always easy for her to meet people. I know I’m not enough for her any more, so I’m glad she has someone she can let off a little steam with.”

Robert studied Joseph’s face for a moment before he looked away, a shadow of guilt passing over him, or maybe that was just embarrassment. He tried to extract his arm from Joseph’s grip, but he held on with just the slightest pressure. Truthfully, Mary was generally content to swill wine and fuss over Damien if she could escape the children for more than two minutes; she probably didn’t even know Robert was there, considering he’d spent almost the entire time lurking in the house.

“She’s some lady,” Robert said. He trailed off as Joseph let go of his arm only to ghost his hand down his back, right to the waistband of his low-slung jeans. Joseph smiled at him, savoured the twitch in his jaw; he gestured for him to walk ahead.

“After you.”

 

\--

 

Joseph wasn’t sure what woke him up, or if he’d even ever fallen asleep in the first place. He’d drifted off to the sound of rain, a distant drumroll on the roof on the house, a sluggish waterfall off the eaves. The screen on his phone lit up just as he opened his eyes, blinking a silent notification. He picked it up from the nightstand, pulled up the message. It was from Robert.

R: joseph

R: joseph

R: joseph

Joseph frowned slightly, moreso because the light hurt his eyes rather than being bothered by the texts. It was the middle of the night, and Robert was calling his name. He waited until a few more flashed up, and for a brief moment considered ignoring it altogether, but he didn’t want to be cruel.

J: Are you okay? ~Joseph

No response. Joseph nearly drifted off again. The rain was nearly enough to drown out Mary’s breathing in the bed beside him.

R: can you come pick me up

J: Are you serious? It’s nearly 3am

R: if you dont ill drive 

R: please

R: its raining

J: …

J: Where are you? ~Joseph

No response came after that. Joseph didn’t know whether Robert thought he was playing some kind of game or if he genuinely couldn’t reply for whatever reason, but he had a good idea where he would find him either way. He kicked back the covers, sat up, put his hands on his knees as he sighed through the lingering tiredness; behind him, Mary turned in her sleep. If she was asleep. Maybe not. Probably not. Joseph got up, got dressed, and left without leaving a note.

 

\--

 

The rain was falling so hard the spray made a haze of water above the surface of the night-blackened sidewalk, and the wipers on Joseph’s sensible sedan were hopelessly overworked as pulled into the carpark outside Jim & Kim’s. He had nearly driven right passed it; it was so late, the beacon-like neon sign had been turned off. The only other car in the lot was a tell-tale pick-up, lights off, haphazardly parked across two spaces. For whatever reason, Robert wasn’t sitting in it; he was leaning against the back bumper, head low and his hands stuffed in his pocket. He had a sodden cigarette clenched between his teeth, long since extinguished by the rain if it had ever been lit in the first place, his soft blue sweater soaked through anywhere his jacket didn’t cover him. 

He looked pathetic. It suited him, but Joseph still lamented not bringing some towels for him - to save his seats, if anything. He flashed his lights to catch his attention as he pulled up and he staggered over to climb in, stiff legged and bleary eyed. Joseph pulled away without saying a word - in fact, without so much as looking at him too closely. He put the radio on to make the silence seem a little less empty, but it was staticky and indistinct beneath the steady drumming of the rain. 

Robert didn’t bother to put his seatbelt on. He sat with his arms crossed over his chest, heading leaning against the fogged window, staring out into the bleak night. Half-way through the journey he seemed to blink back to reality and knocked his knuckle against the glass.

“Take the next right,” he said. He met Joseph’s enquiring glance and looked away with a twist of his mouth, “Please.”

The tick of the indicator was a metronome for Joseph’s patience, tired as he was. He didn’t ask for an explanation, and Robert didn’t offer one, not even once he realised with further instructions that they were driving out of the bay, up into the wooded hills that overlooked the town. They were far enough out in the sticks that the road crumbled into a muddy track that was in danger of being washed away, but they managed to make it to the scrubbed-out ledge Robert directed him to. 

Joseph parked up, left the engine idling; it took him longer than it should have to take his hands off the wheel. The air felt heavy, thick, like it was going to storm, and he wasn’t sure it had anything to do with the weather. The water still dripped from the ends of Robert’s hair, ran down his nose, his cheeks. Joseph wanted to wipe it away with the sleeve of his cardigan, but he kept his hands to himself and his tongue pressed firmly against the back of his teeth. 

“This is the view that made us fall in love with Maple Bay,” Robert said eventually, “Me and Marilyn, we used to drive up to this ledge from our town about half an hour away. We’d drink, make-out, talk about all the shit we thought mattered - usual dumb teenage stuff. She thought the view was romantic as hell. I was just happy to be getting some. I should have enjoyed it more when I could. Now I just come here when I need the quiet.”

“It’s beautiful,” Joseph said, though all he could make out of the town below was a blur of distant, starry orange lights through the rain. The ocean beyond was the same indistinct blue-black as the sky, “And...lonely.”

“Everywhere’s lonely now,” Robert said with a mirthless laugh. Joseph felt his stomach clench, shook his head.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he said, voice low and light, struggling to rise above the rain, “You don’t have to be lonely any more, Robert.”

He crossed the void between them, reaching over to rest on top of Robert’s own hand, cold and clammy where it lay on his thigh. Immediately, it closed around his, fingers trembling, tangled like string; just like that, Robert was snared, being pulled in like he was on a rope. He leant in, lips parted, breath whiskey-sour against Joseph’s mouth, noses brushing.

“Robert, you’re drunk, you shouldn’t--” Joseph protested weakly, even as he brought his other hand up to cup the back of Robert’s neck, even as he was the one to pull him across that final line and into a splintering, desperate kiss. His hair was wet, his sweater soaking into Joseph where he pressed against him, everything about him was cold but his mouth. He was shaking as he dragged himself out of his seat, all elbows and bared teeth as he climbed into Joseph’s lap, thighs splayed, eyes screwed shut like he was in pain or maybe just trying not to cry. 

Joseph wrapped his arms around him, fingers slipping on wet leather. When was the last time someone had touched Robert? When was the last time he had been kissed, been comforted, been held? Too long, far too long. He kissed Joseph like a drowning man, gasping, grabbing onto the collar of his shirt just to have something to hold, and Joseph was happy to let him take what he needed - and maybe, maybe if he took a little of what  _ he  _ wanted too, that wouldn’t be so bad. It was a balance, a back and forth. It was his hands, slipping under the damp, stretched-out fabric of Robert’s sweater to palm his stomach, up to the wiry hair on his chest. 

Robert’s breath caught in the back of his throat like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t; he let go of Joseph to fumble with his belt, the buttons on his jeans. He drew his cock into his shaking hand - half hard, despite how much he must have drank - and began to stroke in the short, sharp pulls that the space between them could afford. He became lost in it so easily, their bruising, hungry kisses falling away until they were just forehead to forehead, lashes brushing each other’s cheeks, sharing breath and something more.

Joseph was achingly hard in his slacks, tortured by every jerk of Robert’s hips that ground against him, but he could ignore it. He curled his hand over Robert’s, forced him to slow down, to ease his manic edge. The noise of frustration he made was fragile, wounded; it went straight to Joseph’s cock. He tightened his fist, making him to change his grip as well as the pace so he could control it more easily. 

“You bastard,” Robert began, but Joseph kissed him quiet, swallowed the moan forced between his teeth as Robert came over their twined fingers. It soiled his jeans and Joseph’s shirt, but it didn’t matter; it would wash away in the rain between the driveway and their front doors. 

Almost immediately Robert tried to climb off Joseph, but he wouldn’t let him go, even as he shook and struggled, tears falling freely then. He took a hold of Robert’s neck again, even though he could scarcely meet his eye. His cheeks were flushed, damp but not with the rain. If Joseph dropped him, he would shatter. 

Joseph hushed him, drew his head down to rest on his shoulder so he couldn’t see them any more, and at the simple touch of a hand on his neck Robert fell apart like wet tissue. He kissed his ear, his temple, the hinge of his jaw, and threaded his fingers through the greying hair at the nape of his neck. He was still hard, but it was too vulgar, too ugly to take care of himself when Robert was in such need. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured against Robert’s cheek. Over his leather-clad shoulder, he watched the lights in the bay wink and waver in the storm, but never go out, “You don’t have to be alone.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi at [brood-mother](http://brood-mother.tumblr.com/) !!


End file.
